


do I have your attention

by limned



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limned/pseuds/limned
Summary: Three times that Phil caught them together.





	do I have your attention

1\. _Reykjavik_

They’d left the door open and Natasha had a backup gun secured high on the wall, so when she pushed him down, Clint only stopped long enough to grab a towel and shove it under his knees. Iceland had seemingly limitless hot water but their shower tiles were just as hard as anywhere else.

He couldn’t hear very much with the random sprays of water cascading over his head. It felt a little bit like he was drowning, but drowning in the best possible way as he used his hands to spread her and licked firmly over her clit. Natasha was already worked up enough that he knew better than to take his time; she was making low sounds in her throat, one foot resting on his shoulder as she rocked steadily against his mouth.

She stopped moving for an instant and put a hand around the back of his neck, but when Clint blinked away the water droplets from his eyelashes and looked up, she only gave him a reassuringly intense smile and pulled him back to work.

He kept licking, adjusted one hand to slide three fingers in her, and jesus, this was almost starting to feel like torture as she tightened around them and moaned. The streams of hot water were easing over his cock and he was losing focus on anything beyond how much he wanted to bury it inside her.

It was a heart-stopping shock when the voice said, “Agent Romanoff?” from only a few feet away.

Natasha’s fingernails dug into the back of his neck before he could jerk away. Clint stared up at her in total panic and saw her eyes flutter shut because – oh, because his fingers had curled reflexively inside her and her hips were straining forward. “Be out in a minute,” she said in a calm voice that she must have pulled from another time dimension where his lips weren’t an inch from her clit. Her eyes flicked open and he watched in horror as she glared at him and mouthed silently, _Stop and I will kill you._

“Right,” Coulson said, after a short pause.

Clint heard the steps moving away but he didn’t have very long to think about the fact that Coulson (who wasn’t supposed to _be here_ until tomorrow) had obviously left the fucking door open. Natasha’s nails were really sharp and she was vise-tight around his fingers and also still glaring at him, so he just gave up and leaned forward, stroked viciously hard with the point of his tongue, drove a fourth finger inside her and prayed that she’d keep quiet, and it was only a few more seconds before she was shuddering and flexing her toes against his neck, leaning back against the wall.

He was drawing in a breath to whisper, “Nat, what the _hell,_ ” as quietly as he could manage when she slipped past the shower curtain, leaving him on his knees with the water beating down. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to will his erection away as he shut off the taps and followed her.

Natasha was already in a robe and wrapping a towel around her hair. She tossed him another towel that nearly hit him in the face. “You heard him coming,” he hissed into her ear. “Jesus christ, you’re going to pay for that.”

“Am I?” she said, and he swallowed hard when she reached up to trace his eyebrow with her thumb, water trickling down the side of his face, and smiled so slow and evil that he wanted to pin her against the sink, open door or not. “I hope so.”

Clint hung back in the bathroom a little longer. He knew he was going to turn red when Coulson looked at him, and he did, but it was okay because they went right back to reviewing the mission results, Natasha sitting beside their handler and looking normal and matter-of-fact like she hadn’t been having sex in the shower ten minutes ago.

It was more than okay, actually, which he realized once he calmed down. He knew Coulson had figured them out at least a month ago, maybe two or three, but this was the first time that Natasha didn’t feel the need to hide it.

 

2\. _Buenos Aires_

After six weeks Clint had learned the bus and Subte networks like the back of his hand. The rest of the team wasn’t making it back to the hotel for another thirty minutes, minimum.

He let her get two steps inside the room before pulling her against the door. She was already climbing him, wrapping her legs high on his waist as he dragged her head down. “Fuck, that was so hot,” he breathed, and would have felt stupid for saying something so basic if she wasn’t laughing into his mouth. “Tasha, _fuck_ —“ and he was laughing too before he kissed her so hard that her head rapped against the door.

“Bed, Barton,” she growled against his lips when they finally broke apart. “Right now.”

He carried her across the room and practically threw her down, and thank god she was on the same page; she’d already peeled away her dress and was up on her knees to pull his shirt over his head as he kicked off his sneakers and jeans and boxers. Undercover city clothes were the best thing _ever_ , his combat uniform never would’ve come off so quick.

Natasha rolled him down on his back with a throw that made his whole body tighten up, his hands stroking down to lock around her hips. He was still laughing when she kissed him again, slick and dirty, so perfect, exactly the same perfect way she’d taken out the rooftop security team. “You stole me a helicopter,” he choked out, and wrapped both hands tight around her ass to grind up into the silky barrier of her underwear. “God, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Can’t have that,” Natasha said, deadpan for about one second before she laughed again, her mouth against his cheek as she hooked her thong aside and slid down on his cock.

She felt so good that he couldn’t control himself, jerking and thrusting helplessly underneath her; this would probably be the fastest sex they’d ever had but he couldn’t begin to care. He knew he was babbling, moaning, “Fuck, Nat, yes, _yes_ , come on,” and she was kissing him like she wanted to ruin him and his hand was tangled in her hair and he couldn’t stop driving up into her, every inch of him lit up with amazement that he got to have this.

Clint came groaning and incoherent, pressed as deep inside her as he could get, fingers digging into her hip so hard that he was probably leaving bruises, and he couldn’t even summon enough concentration to know if she’d gotten there too.

He figured it was fine when he regained a little consciousness and Natasha hadn’t smacked him yet. She was collapsed limp over his chest, her breath coming fast against his neck in tiny whimpers, her body still tightening with aftershocks around his cock. He groaned again, faintly, and tried to pull her even closer.

They were dozing for maybe fifteen minutes when the knock came on the door. They were off the bed in an instant to scramble into clothes and answer in the normal way: Natasha braced around the corner with two guns, Clint checking the peephole sideways before he opened it.

Coulson looked almost normal as he stared at them and said evenly, “Agent Barton, your field comms have been locked on transmit-only for an hour. Please remedy this,” before he turned and walked away.

 

3\. _office_

Clint didn’t know how paperwork had turned into this, but he didn't mind at all.

Scratch that: he knew exactly how it turned into this, when he stood up to get a stapler and Natasha ran a hand over his ass. He was just surprised by how quickly it turned into this, his pants around his ankles in Phil’s desk chair with Natasha riding him, her shirt and bra thrown somewhere to the side.

If Phil’s chair wasn’t on rollers, it might have been slightly less revealing, but he got quickly frustrated and relocated them to the desk where he could plant his feet and fuck her with some traction.

Unfortunately this resulted in most of the papers and the Korean meditation fountain being knocked to the floor, and he was about three seconds from coming with Natasha’s hands clawing his back and her left nipple in his mouth when the door swung open.

He had to give Phil credit: his expression was the same annoyed look that he got when they didn’t finish their paperwork on time. They also didn’t have to listen to the usual lecture before he slammed the door shut.

**Author's Note:**

> These are the locations mentioned in Phil's part of **[be your perfect disaster (five times)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10816506)**.


End file.
